Or more specifically, “two characters who have been sparring or in combat training together and almost kiss at the end of their practice fight”. As requested ! Feel free to make any changes.
“Is that the best you can do?”
“I won’t go easy on you.” / “I’ll go easy on you.” / “Quit going easy on me.”
“Hit me with your best shot.”
“You need to do better if you want to meet your goal.”
“I’ve been wanting to kick your ass all week.”
“Is this necessary?”
“Try again.”
“You’re pissing me off.” / “If you’re mad, why don’t you use your anger? Beat me at least once.”
❝ i'm captain jeralt's first and best apprentice. i can beat anyone, professor. even you, if i have to. it may only have been for a short time, but i learned from the absolute best. ❞
♧ oh my god im actually sending this in for a Second Ask but ahaha,,, if you'd like,,,,,
Intimacy // @milotheas
For however loud a lioness may roar, however high a songstress may sing, it was the quiet moments that always stole her breath away. Times of war were… unpleasant. Loud. Frantic. Terrifying. Any skills that could be even remotely lent towards the fighting were in high demand, and all others fell to the wayside. It was enough to make a woman forget herself. The scent of freshly-spilled blood had grown so familiar to her… the gaping pit in her heart as she ended life after life had become so very difficult to fill. It was enough for a woman to truly become a lioness, thinking only of her next prey, and a place to rest her weary head at the end of the day.
But, there was so much more to her. She was human, just like the countless others balking before the fires of war. The other’s lonesome song on that day still haunted her memories, still grounded her in her conscience. She wouldn’t give in to that primal instinct, not when such beautifully human things still tried to bloom around her. Suddenly, unexpectedly, she had become dependent on Dorothea… dependent on these quiet moments, away from all the fighting, away from the fear that the next day could be their last.
For as much of a lioness as she was, Leonie still held desires. A desire to be held close, a desire to feel another’s touch upon her bare skin, a desire to connect both physically and emotionally. It was all she could do to still feel human… Dorothea’s hand had taken her own, pulling her close. But, rather than simply enjoy that proximity, she continued to guide the huntress’s slender digits, first to her hips, then slowly up along her waist… Even through the fabric of her exquisite dress, Leonie could feel every dip and curve of her feminine form, and she could feel her heart begin to thrum furiously against her ribcage. Her chest tightened, and her lips were held slightly open, allowing more needed air into her lungs… Eyes fell along the songstress’s body, and even though she had released Leonie’s hand, it still moved, up and over the curves of Dorothea’s chest. Fingertips curled, offering the gentlest squeeze to that mound which filled her calloused hand so perfectly… Her gaze flitted upward, to watch the other’s expression, relishing in the tiny noises and twitches she uttered at such intimate touch.
It lit a fire in her belly. Shifting even closer, her free hand rose to course through auburn locks, those pads of her fingers ghosting along the outer edge of her ear before cupping her cheek – a silent demand for her attention. She stared for a long moment, lips parting to allow her voice to filter through, low and gravelly, “Do you really want this..? I won’t hold back…”
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